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Back Every Which Way But Dead Save as PDF
Chapters (42)
  1. EVERY
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-one
  25. Twenty-two
  26. Twenty-three
  27. Twenty-four
  28. Twenty-five
  29. Twenty-six
  30. Twenty-seven
  31. Twenty-eight
  32. Twenty-nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-one
  35. Thirty-two
  36. Thirty-three
  37. The Undead Pool: An Excerpt
  38. Chapter 2
  39. About the Author
  40. Praise for KIM HARRISON’sprevious Rachel Morgan novelsDEAD WITCH WALKING andTHE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UNDEAD
  41. Also by Kim Harrison
  42. About the publisher

“Get us home. Call ahead and have Quen draw a bath for her. We have to get her warmer than this.”

“Yes, Sa’han.” It was slow and reluctant. “The I.S. is here. Why don’t we leave her with them?”

I felt a small pull upon my chi as Trent tapped a line. “I don’t want to be seen here. Just don’t get in anyone’s way and we won’t be noticed. Hurry up.”

My eyes wouldn’t listen to me anymore, but I heard Jonathan get out and shut the door. There was another thump when he got in the driver’s door and the car eased into motion. The arms around me tightened, and I realized I was in Trent’s lap, the warmth of his body doing more than the air to warm me. I felt the softness of a blanket against me. I must have been swaddled up right tight; I couldn’t move my legs or arms.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, giving up on trying to open my eyes. “I’m getting water all over your suit.” Then I giggled, thinking that had sounded really pathetic. He was already soaked. “Your Celtic charm isn’t worth a damn,” I whispered. “I hope you kept your receipt.”

“Shut up, Morgan,” Trent said, his voice distant and preoccupied.

The car picked up speed, and the sound seemed to lull me. I could relax, I thought as I felt the tingling of circulation in my limbs. I was in Trent’s car, wrapped in a blanket, and held in his arms. He wouldn’t let anything hurt me.

He wasn’t singing, though, I mused. Shouldn’t he be singing?

Twenty-seven

The warm water I was sitting in was nice. I had been in it long enough to prune twice, but I didn’t care. Ellasbeth’s sunken tub was fab. I sighed, leaning my head back and staring at the ten-foot ceilings framed by the potted orchids lining the bathtub. Maybe there was something to this drug lord business if you got to have a tub like this. I’d been in it for over an hour.

Trent had called Ivy for me even before we reached the city’s limits. I’d talked to her myself not too long ago, telling her I was okay and was soaking in warm water and wasn’t getting out until hell froze over. She had hung up on me, but I knew we were okay.